A different take
by Eraon
Summary: Something completely different, loose structure and some character development pulled from eragon.  Thoughts?


It had all happened so quickly that Arya scarely knew how she should perceive the knowledge that they had sentenced what appeared to have been a child to death. The now cold ash pile stood still in the night as arya stared back at it. Raging golden hair, despite its lack luster from dirt and grime, eyes piercing green, pale skin, and a story unknown was what consisted of the late prisoner. She was still in shock at the harshness of the sentence, but a part of her decreed it necessary on some level. A child of unknown race and origin, quite simply walking into one of the most secure places in the entire world, protected by ancient magic's as old as the land itself, a child bearing the cloak of their enemy, the empire, a child who in one sweep managed to take down three elvin soldiers, before collapsing from starvation.

Their questioning left them little enlightened to her situation. She seemed unable or reluctant to answer. Finally refusing to speak, even when presenting with the penalty of death, which of course wasn't an actual option. That is until they found the child having escaped from her confines twice, which required the expenditure of fourteen soldiers to recover her, most of whom were gravely injured. It was then that the child of no more than twelve was sentenced to death, and it was carried out on this very day, the child's food was drugged with poison which her body nearly succumbed too, and her body was burnt by pyre. All that was left was the large pile of ash that was eerily still in the deadened night. However what drew Arya to this very spot was the incredibly intense draw of a familiar magic. Something she could not claim to be familiar with. This particular spot was chosen for it being out of the way of prying eyes. It was a truly scandalous decision for Arya's mother, the queen, to decree that a prisoner be executed, let alone a child.

Children were something reviered in elvish society, for they were so rare and so few and far between. The effort to conceive was great, and on ever so often a charge, a child was conceived without realization, and in those moments just as much joy and happiness was pronounced, for is signified a connection much greater than was possibly perceived.

Arya stood in the darkness watching the moonlight reflect back at her down through the opening in the trees to the white ash that was left from the burnt wood. Her eyes were fixed on the point, unwavering in their perception. Then in those moment, she watched, fixated as the ash moved. It swirled, down and around, some of it bursting into the air in small puffs as it was displaced by movement beneath it. In those moments thereafter, a figure emerged from the ashes. A naked child, a young girl, her hair still long, flowing down around her ash she crawled weakly on her hands and knees away from the ash that poured off her. She coughed violently on her hands and knees, quickly collapsing to the ground. She seemed to have a dull glow about her, Arya might have been imaging it, but it was a terrible sight that sent fear through her. She concealed herself in the shadow of a tree, not yet noticed by the girl, but she watched the creature as she weakly forced herself into a sitting position. She looked back at the trail of ash that led to the pile left by the pyre and she was silent. It was then that Arya heard the shudder of her breath as a trembling sob came about. The girl forced herself to her feet, her eyes locked on the ash, taking a step back, but she collapsed to the ground once more, too weak to carry on as she wished. She coughed violently and arya could see her body trembling. The sight she was witnessing was an impoosibility that was beyond any probably explanation that arya could account for in her two hundred and twenty three years of living. It was both horrific and somewhat beautiful in a very perverse way. To see this child burnt this morning, and to be reborn of ash, so it seemed, was truly terrible. The girl seemed to bear no mark of burns, her hair still in tact, but her clothing gone. Arya was still as a doe watching the child. She was sitting on the ground, curled up tightly. She watched the child attempt to gather her strength, standing once more, but this time arya watched as she fainted collapsing to the ground with a dull thud.

Arya recovered herself enough to star at what impossible thing she was seeing, and to force herself to consider a course of action. Obviously this child, creature, whatever she was, was something that was much larger than even the most ancient race of all the world, and for one of the few times in her life, arya truly did not have an answer.

As a sudden wind picked up from seemingly no where, she felt its direction urge her towards the prone figure. The trees, it seemed were edging her on, desiring her to attend to the figure. This was abhorrent to her, and yet it intrigued the second in command of the elvin race. She approached the child, having never been particularly aquainted with children before and looked at the ash and soot covered figure. To survive poisoning and burning was the obvious work of magic, but what type of magic was so strong that it could defend against such violence against the body?

It was a split second decision that spurred arya on to collect the child into her arms. Her body was rail thin, quite small, and the child seemed completely dead outside of a very lightly detectable heartbeat. It was the only signal of life, even the rise and fall of her chest was something to worry. She hurridly left the clearing, and headed for her secluded private quarters a half mile outside of the city in the private forest of the royal house.


End file.
